7
Na, na, Meg; see there's a token
Glittering on my bonnet cheek.
Owre the seas I march this morning,
Listed, tested, sworn an’ a’,
Forc’d by your confounded girning;—
Fareweel, Meg, for I'm awa.
Then poor Maggy's tears and clamour
Cush't afresh, and louder grew,
While the weans wi’ mournfu' yammer,
Round their sabbin mither flew.
Thro‘ the yirth I'll wander wi’ you
Stay, O Watty, stay at hame;
Here upon my knees I'll gie you
Ony thing ye like to name.
See your poor young lammies pleadin,
Will ye gang, to break our heart,
No a house to put our head in,
No a friend to tak our part:
Ilka word cam like a bullet,
Watty's heart begoud to shake,
On a kist lie laid his wallet,
Dighted baith his een, and spake
If ance mair I could by writing,
Lea' the sodgers and stay still,
Wad ye swear to drap your flyting?
Yes, O Watty, yes I will.
Then quo' Watty, mind be honest,
Ay to keep your temper strive;
Gin ye break this dreadfu' promise,
Never mair expect to thrive.
